Bad Blood
by what-the-actual-assbutt
Summary: Ella Simmons is not your average teenager. Her music taste is different, her behavior is SO strange, and what the hell is up with that scar on her neck? She's the one with the daddy issues as a teenager. Ella has never met her father either, but a letter from her recently murdered mother seems to peak her interest in the issue. But who is this Dean Winchester? [SEASON 9 SPOILERS]
1. That Green Eyed Girl

**July 14th 1999, 2:17 am. **

The small infant was wrapped in a soft pink blanket, being held in her mother's arms. Teresa smiled, a tear rolling down her cold cheek, looking into her new child's eyes. They were a green as her father's. The new mother now didn't question who the father was. The child in her arms had the same facial structure, not to mention, the freaking same color of lips.

It was as if Teresa was looking at the same man she met nine months before this day, but on her baby girl. The man that she made love to in the back of that old, musty hotel room. Teresa had told him to wear a condom, didn't she? But the child had much of her mother's qualities. The long eyelashes, the small locks of dark brown hair coming from her head, and the very pale shade of her skin.

"Are you settled on a name yet, Ms. Simmons?" the doctor asked, waiting patiently for an answer. Teresa nodded, feeling another salty drop slip out of her eyelid.

"Ella," Teresa stuttered out, remembering how long it took to make this decision all by herself. Searching through what seemed like thousands of name books, asking for about a hundred opinions. Teresa sniffled, clearing her throat a little afterwards, and smiled, pressing her lips together. "Ella Dean Simmons,"

**June 11th 2008, 11:54 am**

"Why do I have to do this?" Ella asked her mother, her short hair blowing a bit in the wind. Teresa sighed deeply, and knelt beside her child, gazing into her daughter's large green eyes.

"Because of this," Teresa answered, carefully grazing her pointer finger on the child's forehead. A week before, on the last day of school, Ella had been shoved off of the top of the monkey bars by a few school bullies. Next time, it'd be different. Teresa had promised her daughter that there wouldn't be a next time. But in her gut, she knew that her statement wasn't true.

Ella exhaled through her nose, pushing up her thick black glasses that she had just acquired this year. The young girl wrapped her arms around her mother, hugging her tightly, not wanting to let go. They stood in front of an apartment building in the center of Boston, the traffic practically circling the two.

"Uncle Nico will make sure you're all trained up for next school year. Besides, you probably have fun wit it," Teresa informed her daughter, breaking the hug, giving her a small smile.

Ella nodded, and broke contact with her mother, tearing up just a little. Teresa wished for Ella to be strong. To be like her father. Dean never knew about his descendant. Teresa didn't necessarily want him to anyways. He already had a job that took up most of his energy, he didn't need a child that was going to drain him even more.

When ready, Ella turned away from her mother, and strolled over towards the apartment complex, opening the door, and went inside. And with this, Ella didn't really bother to look back.

**August 31st 2008, 4:26 pm**

Ella trudged up to her mother, and hugged her carefully, but still having quite the grip. Teresa sighed in relief, and grinned, giving her daughter a tight squeeze in return.

"I missed you, sweetheart," Teresa whispered into the child's ear, afterwards kissing her softly on the forehead. The mother had probably lost a few hundred memories just by sending the child to her uncle's house. Teresa had even missed Ella's 9th birthday.

"I missed you too, mom."

Teresa broke the hug, and placed her hands on the child's shoulders, getting a better look at her. Teresa noticed something darker about Ella, something in her voice, her mood, her face. Just, darker. The mother asked Ella how her birthday was, and what she did over the summer. But Ella only blinked her large green eyes, and shrugged. The daughter had gained some dark circles under here eyes, and a fresh and vicious scar on her neck, sticking out like a sore thumb.

The mother widened her hazel eyes, staring at the jagged looking wound.

"Nico!" Teresa hollered, quickly looking up at her younger brother, who only made a nervous facial expression, and shrugged.

"Sorry! It was just an accident-"

The argument about the stupid cut went on for so long, Ella ended up falling asleep, thanks to sleep deprivation. She had noticeably lost a good ten to twenty pounds over the two months, which wasn't a healthy thing for the child's growth.

Nico had taught Ella well though. He was one of the best hunters that Teresa knew, (besides the Winchesters) since she quit the job. Teresa only wished for Ella to be able to defend herself. That was all.

**September 6th 2008, 12:38 pm**

"Hey loser!" one of the school bullies called out to Ella. The young child looked up from the swing she was sitting on, minding her own business. "That's my swing, you should know that by now," the boy snarled, pushing Ella's body off of the equipment, forcing the child to collapse onto the wood chips.

Ella groaned, feeling something poke at the scar on her neck. Her arms pushed her up from the ground, and her legs forced her to stand up, facing her bully who was now on the swing.

"What are you looking at, you freak?" he spat at her, giving the girl a look that would normally make her run in fear.

But this time, she only rolled her eyes, and walked closer to the boy that didn't seem intimidating to her anymore.

"God, what'd did you have for breakfast today? Carnation instant dick?" the nine year old girl asked, remembering the insult from a slip of paper that her uncle forced her to memorize. She felt a rush of adrenaline pump through her veins, mainly because she just said a bad word. She felt like such a rebel. Ella raised her eyebrows, crossing her arms and casually leaned up against a metal pole, smirking at the boy, chuckling to herself.

Unfortunately, her luck didn't last for long, when the boy who was swinging took his foot, and kicked her off of her feet, almost punting her back about five feet. Ella yelped, as she fell back onto the wood chips, landing back first. She groaned, hearing the older boy jump off of his swing, and take a few steps towards her body.

"When did you get this?" he asked casually, smirking down at her, kneeling beside her, and pressing his middle finger down on her neck scar, sending a surge of white hot pain throughout the targeted area. Ella balled her fists, whimpering through her teeth, before her foot acted before her brain could comprehend what was about to happen. Ella then kicked the older boy in the groin, getting him off of her, and giving her the chance to push herself up again.

The boy howled in pain, falling to the ground, his small hands covering his crotch, and wincing at the feeling. Ella felt something drip from the back of her head, but ignored it, scowling at the boy under her. He didn't notice right away, but got the idea when Ella quickly pressed her Converse covered foot on his neck. Or as Nico called it, 'A taste of his own medicine'.

The kid attempted to let out a scream, but came up with nothing, because of Ella's foot blocking all of his air passageways. He choked below her, widening his eyes when she tilted her head, and pressed harder, hearing her pupils surround her, and begin to cheer her on. His leg twitched a little, bumping into her own foot. Ella rolled her somewhat deranged green eyes, noticing the kid's struggles. She removed her foot from his throat, and quickly wrapped her hand around the collar of his shirt with a misogynistic sentence printed on the front, making a tight fist in the fabric.

"Now, if you end up telling this to any teacher, or decide to bother me or any one of these kids ever again, I'm gonna make sure your name is on an unsolved mysteries list," Ella muttered the threat into the older boy's ear, afterwards shoving him down into the wood chips, before she walked away, not bothering to look back at the kid on the playground, or anyone behind her really.

Well Teresa was right about one thing, Ella Simmons was certainly her father's daughter.


	2. The Last Day, Of Everything Really

**June 5th, 2014**

His dark blue eyes were to die for. I swear, if this boy spoke another word, I was going to vomit with joy. Not literally, just like, internally vomit.

Was this what a crush felt like? Idiotic, and (not not mention) INSANE crushes? The works of Shakespeare rolled off of his tongue perfectly, making me go berserk. The way he would take his long fingers to scratch his dark auburn hair, before setting his large hand down on the wooden desk again.

Feeling a tight pinch on my arm, I quickly grabbed the tan wrist of the "attacker", only to see that it was my best friend who was sitting next to me in class. Rolling my eyes, I immediately let go of her hand, setting my own in my lap.

"Ooh, Ella Simmons has a crush on Tom Hoffhacker," Caitlin taunted, nudging me with her elbow.

"Shut up," I hissed, gritting my teeth and balling my fists. Caitlin only snickered, shaking her head.

"Ella. Guess what. It's the last day of school. If you don't get his number, you'll regret it!" Caitlin whispered, while I tried to pay attention to what the teacher was describing. Honors English, where you read Shakespeare for fun on the last day of school.

"It's not like Tom is actually interested in me anyways," I muttered just loud enough for my friend to hear.

"That's not what I've heard," she blurted quietly, chuckling casually afterwards. With that, my head violently turned towards her, wondering what the hell she meant.

"What?"

"Nothing important. Now, I heard that Tiffany from choir was talking shit about you yesterday," Caitlin changed the subject on purpose, smirking and leaning on the palm of her hand. I rolled my eyes in return, only caring about the back of Tom's head. "She said that you had 'daddy issues' because your cousin brought you to the Father Daughter Dance, instead of your actual dad."

"Caitlin, not now," I muttered, tightening my balled fists, seeing my knuckles turn white. Why did everything these days have to be a pain in my ass?

"Fine, just wanted you to know that." Caitlin shrugged, crossing her legs as she did so. How could she not get the fact that I honestly did not give a shit about girl drama? It just wasn't my thing, apparently it was a girl requirement to know the daily gossip.

* * *

The rest of the hour was awkward and quiet between the both of us, with Mrs. Ludwig making us write our own sonnets, and turn them in. At least it was something to help my brain to focus on.

Towards the end of the last few minutes of school, Caitlin ended up "accidentally" bumping me into Tom. Oh, and lucky me, he was just happening to be giving his number out to his buddies.

I scowled at my friend, as Tom quickly turned around, and smiled at me, apologizing immediately.

"No, no, it's alright-"

"Ella. I was in the way. Don't worry about it," Tom assured me, scratching the back of that beautiful neck. Was this obsession? I had no idea in the world anymore.

But, he knew my name? My name?! This was like a dream come true. The freaking hottest guy on the planet, knew, my, name.

"Well, if you say so," I shrugged, laughing nervously, and casually looking back up at him. I probably looked like a complete freak next to him. With messy short hair, large glasses, an oversized Def Leppard shirt that I acquired from my mother. Not to mention a pair of old Nike shorts that I wearing, even though I wore them to sleep in last night. Idiot! You don't know how to look presentable for shit!

Tom smiled, and took out a Sharpie, and pressed his pink lips together, dimples showing up on his cheeks.

"Hey, you're actually pretty funny. I'd like to get your number, you know. So I can make up puns on a daily basis?" he asked, laughing his way through the question. God, why did he have to be so adorable?

Feeling the blood rise to my cheeks, I nodded. Embarrassment was plastered on my face. What was I supposed to do? No guy has ever asked me for his number before.

I plucked the pen out of his large hands, and gently grabbed his hand, feeling jolts of electricity going through my body. Tingles, small, alarming tingles. Ignoring the feeling, I wrote the ten digit number on his warm, comforting skin. God dammit. He did the same thing with me afterwards, laughing as he did.

God, I hated myself so much.

* * *

I pushed myself into the driveway, the penny board's wheel going over the curb, and rolling onto the different pavement. My mother didn't call me during any of my finals today, which was swell, wince I could actually take a test without any distractions. I hopped off of the moving board, and quickly grabbed it, running towards the front door.

Unlocking the door with my house key, I pranced inside of the small house, smiling as if there was no tomorrow. I felt this glow in the bottom of my stomach, making the whole moment feel optimistic and cheery.

"I have Tom Hoffhacker's number!" I exclaimed like some kind of lame kindergartner. Kicking off my shoes, my legs ran me up the white carpeted stairs to greet my mother. I saw her car in the open garage, I wonder what she was doing, being home so early and all. She usually didn't get off of work until like seven at night.

But the upstairs didn't smell right. Not the usual dusty scent, it had some kind of bad, rotting egg stench. It confused me a little. Did we have a gas leak or something? Was that why she was home? It must have been. But the furnace was downstairs, not up here. Raising my eyebrows, I ran up the second set of steps, before I halted at my mother's bedroom door. Just knock. A few times. If she gets mad, walk away quickly. Nodding to myself, I tapped on the door a few times, not hearing a voice inside at first. Did she not hear me?

Sighing, I pushed the door open, only seeing her empty bedroom. But her dresser was flipped over, with scattered items around the floor. I held my breath, and stepped inside, wondering what hell happened.

"Mom?"

Not getting an answer, I stepped into her room, spotting a hand crafted box on her queen sized bed. Noticing a sheet of paper on it, I walked up to the item slowly, and read the paper after grabbing it tightly in my hands. The only thing I saw was my name that was scribbled in pen on the sheet. Setting the piece of paper down, I ignored the box, and turned to her bathroom, seeing that the light was on. Was she in there? She must have. She wouldn't just leave the light on, she was a total electricity bill fanatic.

The stench stung my nose a little, beginning to give me a headache. I groaned, pinching my forehead, attempting to get the stupid smell out of my nose. Breathing though my mouth, I quickly walked to the master bedroom's bathroom, and twisted the doorknob. It didn't budge.

"Damn locks," I muttered, pounding on the wooden door. "Mom! You in there?!"

Not hearing a response, I pounded on the door a few more times. Cursing under my breath, I took a few steps backwards, clearing my throat. Nico taught me how to do this, when I was eight. I had accomplished it easily before, but that was like six or seven years ago. Pressing my lips together, I exhaled deeply, blinking a few times to regain my memory.

Nodding to myself, I kicked the door my right foot, aiming for the spot right underneath the doorknob. Surprisingly enough, the force was just enough to break the door down, causing it to swing open, and crash against the bathroom counter.

The hair stood up on the back of my neck, as I spotted my mother on the tiled floor, lying in a large pool of red liquid. Her throat was torn open, the flesh ripped apart, the blood dribbling out slowly. I could feel myself scream, but my ears filled up with only white noise. Running over to her body, I noticed her hazel eyes were glossed over, still open, looking up at the ceiling. Not worrying about the stench anymore, I allowed the smell to enter my nose, giving me a large headache. I grabbed her from underneath, seeing the blood stain my arms and clothes, as her head bobbed up and down during the holding process.

"No, no, no, please," I stuttered out, the tears crawling down my cheeks, landing on my shirt. Somehow, I took my phone out, and successfully dialed 911, continuing to cob over my mother's limp corpse.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"My mom, she's, she's dead. Someone killed her!" I coughed, throwing my device towards the closet inside of the bathroom, hearing it land softly on the carpet. "There's so much blood-"

"Miss, where are you?" the woman asked. I gave the lady my address, I could feel my whole body shiver in terror, my gut twisting itself into about three different types of knots you would learn at a Boy Scout Camp. The happiness drained from my emotions, replacing itself with grief, burrowing a deep dark hole in my heart.


	3. Truth Be Told

**June 8th 2014**

I had been allowed back in the house, but not for long. Just to pack a few bags. At least that's what the Social Services lady told me. So I did pack, two bags actually. Two bags stuffed with a laptop, the majority of my clothes, and personal items. My eyes were a pure red shade from crying too much. From grieving every day since I found her laying on the floor. Was I overreacting?

The police were still looking for suspects, but informed me that the whole place was clean of fingerprints.

Shaking my head, I took one more quick look around my mother's room, noticing that the police didn't even try to move the box that I had found on my mother's bed. Confused, I strolled over to the box, and plopped down on the mattress, hearing it creak below me because of the springs. What was in the box anyways? The sheet of paper was still on the box, still telling me that the box was going to be given to me.

I pressed my lips together, and sniffled, grabbing the box carefully, examining the outside of it. It wouldn't hurt to take a look, would it? No. It wouldn't. I removed the slip of paper with my name on it, and set it next to pillow, and sighed, opening the box. I acted as if the wood work was going to break easily, as if it were glass.

Seeing several different items in the box, I grabbed the envelope addressed to me first, seeing that it would be the right thing to do. As if it were a birthday gift. Open the card first. But this wasn't a card. It was a letter. Written on yellow notebook paper with blue pen. I practically tossed the ripped envelope aside, unfolding the paper, and began to read my mother's words.

_Ella,_

_If you're reading this, I'm dead. Most likely murdered, because if I had died of natural causes, I would send you to your aunt's. But this, this is something different. What you are about to read will sound completely insane, but I want to assure you, that none of what I will write is false. _

_Before I had you, I wasn't exactly in college. I lied about that, and I'm sorry about that. But that's not my main concern here. _

_You see, there are things out there, monsters actually. Everybody will tell you that they're fake, but they just don't know the truth. Read the journal in here, it will tell you everything you need to know. Your birth certificate is also inside of this box, who will tell you who your father is. I also lied when I told you that he was killed in a car accident, because he's not. Last time I've heard, he's actually died a few hundred times. But as far as I can tell, he's still currently alive. Your father is alive, Ella._

_I provided his phone number, so you call him. Please note that he doesn't exactly know that you're his daughter. We had a stupid incident one night, but from that incident, the best thing in the world came of it. You. _

_Your father is really something else. He has a younger brother, that is actually taller than him. It sounds funny, but it's true actually. You have his eyes. Green, the perfect shade of green. You have his sense of humor, sarcasm, taste in music, his attitude, his eating routines. _

_You just gained everything about him, without even knowing him. Your father, is quite the badass. A child at heart honestly, he has a hard exterior, but is just a big soft teddy bear on the inside. He certainly is the ladies man, not to mention that he's terribly clever. You gained his wit as well. _

_Your uncle, is just a large dork. But he's smart. Before he became, what he is now, he was going to be a lawyer. He got a full ride to Stanford, but abandoned it. He is quite the opposite of his brother, full of emotions, thinks before he acts, and is pretty bad when it comes to the ladies. It may not look like it, but he just is. But your uncle is strong. Last I heard, Lucifer possessed him for fucks sake-  
You'll learn about that later. _

_You will need everything that is in this box. _

_Salt, to line your doors an windows with. My strong demon blade, to kill those nasty ass holes. An angel blade, to do the same thing, but to Angels. Trust me, they're dicks. Most of them are at least. And a caliber, to defend yourself from anything else._

_Your life is about to change, Ella. Just know that. Also, make damn sure that they cremate every last part of me. _

_I love you Ella. Find your father. Take care of yourself. I'll be watching over you, waiting for you up here. See you around sweetheart. _

_Love, _

_Mom. _

Widening my eyes, I set the letter on the mattress next to it's envelope, afterwards rummaging through the box. I took all of the described items out of the box, and found my birth certificate at the bottom. Grasping the large green piece of paper, I read over it quickly, my eyes scanning every last inch. I had never seen my own birth certificate before, this was the first time in fourteen years.

_Name: Ella Dean Simmons  
Born: July 14, 1999  
County of Birth: New York  
City of Birth: Manhattan  
Mother Maiden Name: Teresa Simmons  
Father Name: Dean Winchester _

And there it was. Sitting out in plain sight, right in front of me. My father's name. I knew his name. I had a father. A father.

His name was Dean Winchester. And I was his daughter.


	4. Doubt

**June 10 2014**

Tom sat next to me on the park bench, holding a four cup coffee holder, with only two large plastic cups taking up the space. While he sat back, I continued to flip through the pages of a leather journal, studying the different types of monsters written inside. Or angels. Or demons. Not to mention spirits. Just a bunch of information on any type of ghoul or Bigfoot, with a way to kill it, and a way to track them. Details about anything you can imagine in that sort of area.

"Hey, you, uh, want one?" Tom offered, holding up a plastic cup. I took a second to look up from the book, and saw him give me a comforting smile. He knew about the incident, practically everybody on the block did. Or maybe even in the whole city. I didn't know, or care. I just needed to find out what piece of crap killed my mother.

"Uh, sorry, what is it?" I asked, as Tom instantly had a confused expression on his face. I examined the cup, seeing the label as _Starbucks_, but having some kind of frothy tan liquid inside. I thought that place sold coffee. That on the other hand, looked like some kind of milkshake or something. "I've never really been to that place, and I've never really had coffee before," I explained quickly. Tom raised his eyebrows in surprise, chuckling to himself.

"I have never met a white girl who hasn't had Starbucks before." Tom admitted. With this, I raised my eyebrows, hearing a stereotype that I've seen everywhere. "It's a vanilla frappuccino, with like two pumps of almond syrup. It's extraordinary," Tom explained, saying a word that probably wasn't in the English dictionary. Frappuccino? What?

"Alright, I'll try it. First time for everything, right?" I asked, grabbing the extremely cold cup from Tom's hand, and putting my mouth on the straw, drinking the cold liquid. It was sweet, really sweet. Like, was this the Appletini of coffee? It felt extremely girly. It tasted good, but not exactly like coffee. It was actually delicious, to be honest. And I felt like an idiot for liking it. It tasted like some kind of frozen cupcake, blended all up into a drink.

"This is actually pretty excellent," I blurted, immediately regretting the decision to say it out loud. Tom only laughed, as I continued to drink the girly beverage, and flip him off. God, what the hell did they put in these? It felt like my tastebuds were having a rave or something. It must've had like a million calories though.

"You wanna know something crazy?" I asked, setting down my drink (which was already like 75% gone) and flipping to a book marked page in the journal, and smiling to myself.

"What's that?"

"Vampires are real." I informed Tom, the silence awkwardly filling in the seconds after I told him.

But he only started to laugh hysterically, smacking his knee and almost choking on his own spit.

"Oh god, that's funny, Ella."

"No seriously! And you don't kill them by putting a steak through their heart, you just chop their heads off, or inject them with some dead man's blood," I recited from the page, finding all of this information extremely useful.

Just before Tom opened his mouth, I felt my phone vibrate in my back pocket, several times actually, telling me that someone was calling. So I grabbed the device out of my pocket, and answered the call, holding it up to my ear.

"Hello?" I greeted, hearing someone whispering on the other end before answering.

"Ella Simmons?"

"Yeah?"

"We need you down the Manhattan Police Station. There's an FBI Agent that needs to ask you a few questions."

* * *

As I waited for the officer, I frantically looked through the book, searching for my father's number. It had to be in here, I couldn't find it anywhere else. Spirits, angry spirits, wendigo? Oh my god Ella, pay attention.

When I flipped to some kind of archangel page, I spotted a post it note on the page, on it, written two different phone numbers. Why were there two? Whatever, just call one!

I fished my device out of my back pocket once again, and unlocked it, dialing the second number on the slip. I wasn't sure why I didn't just go in order, I just felt like calling the second one. It looked intriguing.

Holding the device up to my ear, I heard the phone ring a few times. Tapping my foot, I waited for the other person to answer their phone. It wasn't that hard, just answer your phone.

Maybe it was a wrong number! Maybe it was out of service. What if they changed numbers, and mom never got the memo? What if I could never get ahold of my father?! Never see him, to never talk to him, laugh with him, to never hug him.

"Hello?" a confused voice answered on the other line, finally picking up the phone. Could this be Dean? Could this be my father?!

"Uh, hi, is this Dean Winchester?" I asked, looking at myself, directly in the mirror. Looking at the ugly scar on my neck, which was fading away pretty slowly. It was still noticeable, even from twenty feet away looking into a mirror. I remember what happened before the incident, but I never quite recalled what happened when I got the scar.

I only heard someone clear their throat, and a little silence afterwards, but never actually received a verbal response.

"Hello?" I asked, checking to see if the man was still there. And as I did, the door to the interrogation room slammed open, and shut immediately. I jumped out of my seat, pressing my hands against the table, and looking over at the man who entered, who was clenching his cell phone in his hands.

He was extremely tall, with longer hair than mine, and was wearing a suit. Normal for an FBI Agent, but he just had some legs that went well with it. Like seriously, damn son. You could poke someone's eye out with those legs. He was kind of a pretty boy too. Christ, where was I?

"Alright, how'd you get Dean's number?" he asked, glaring at me from the side of the room. I looked at the man, raising my eyebrows, and crossing my arms.

"How'd you know about-"

The man interrupted me, and tossed an old school flip phone on the table, and mimicked my actions, giving me the same look.

"I'm his brother. Sam Winchester, and you, Ella. How do you know Dean's number?" he asked again, making his way over to the chair across from me.

Never mind what I said before, this guy was not a pretty boy, I repeat, NOT a pretty boy-

He was my uncle? No way. He was enormous! Look at me, I was almost going to be like 5'1, and I would think of myself as the luckiest person in the world if I hit 5'3. This guy was about as big as a truck!

I stuttered on my words, keeping eye contact with my uncle, as he quickly looked at the old journal on the table, eyeing it with confusion. That was before he plucked it from the table, and opened the book, flipping through the pages with ease.

"Hey, what the hell-"

"Are you a hunter?!" my uncle asked, gazing back up at me, raising his eyebrows.

"A hunter? Is that the name for you guys?" I asked, probably sounding like a complete idiot. "Well, no! But I'm pretty sure my mom was. And my uncle. But they're both dead."

"Who gave you my brother's phone number-"

Before he could finish his repeated question, I groaned, and took the folded up birth certificate from my back pocket, and tossed it towards the man. It hit him in the forehead, surprising him.

The man rolled his eyes, and took the paper for himself, unfolding the sheet, before reading the contents.

"So what, a birth-"

"Keep reading ass wipe." I interrupted, plopping down in my chair, crossing my arms and looking at myself in the "mirror".

After a few more seconds, there was nothing but silence that filled the room. Awkward silence. I looked back at my uncle, seeing his hazel eyes widen, when he looked at me, and back at the paper.

"Is this some kind of joke?"

"My mother practically gave it to me when she was killed. Do you think it's a freaking joke?" I asked, pounding my fist on the black table, the noise echoing throughout the room my breathing becoming faster by the second.

Sam pinched his forehead, and sighed, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Dean has a fucking kid. How did I not see this before?" Sam asked himself, shaking his head. "The last girl that was his daughter almost shot him, and so I killed her."

With this sentence, I scooted back in my chair a little, increasing the amount of distance between the two of us.

"Wait, you killed his other daughter-"

"It was a weird situation," my uncle interrupted, taking some deep breaths in and out through his nose. "I still don't believe it. It could be fake, but you look just like him." he sighed, shaking his head a few more times.

What?

"Dean, is in a complicated situation right now," Sam explained, placing his over sized hands on the table. "Probably not the best timing for knowing that he has another kid."

"What type of situation?" I asked, crossing my arms. For some reason, I didn't buy what my uncle was telling me.

The man burrowed his eyebrows, and frowned slightly at me, mirroring my actions with his arms.

"He's somewhat indisposed at the moment," Sam hardly explained, pressing his lips together. I appreciate the help, dude.

"So what? He has a some kind of cold or something?"

"Yeah. Something like that," he retorted, sighing, grabbing a few items from his jacket pocket. It consisted of a flask, a small package of salt, and silver, which somewhat confused me, until I remembered what I read in the journal that was in my uncle's possession at the moment. Sam applied a latex glove to his left hand, the sound of the snapping going through my ears quickly. That was weird, well, all of this was.

_If you end up meeting your father, there is a good chance that he'll make sure that you're not a black eyed jackass. Or you know, a ghost, or some kind of shapeshifter-_

"We need to make this quick and as discreet as possible," Sam muttered, looking at me to see if I understood. I nodded, and he did the same, taking his flask, and pouring some of the clear liquid in his hand, before flicking me in the face, the cold liquid only splashing my face. My uncle chuckled, while I wiped the liquid from my face.

"Well, that's good, no burning of the flesh." he joked, while I opened my eyes, giving him an extremely blunt facial expression. While I did, he ripped open the abnormally small salt package, and quickly poured the grains on my hand, only startling me a little bit.

Sam sighed, before he took the silver coin in his gloved hand, and pressed the slightly cool item against my cheek, doing the same with the other side.

"Are we done?" I asked, crossing my arms, feeling some grains of salt tumble onto my shirt. Sam raised his brown eyebrows, and nodded, quickly putting all three of the items back in his pocket.

"Just had to check-"

"You just needed to know if I was some kind of freakish monster or something, yeah, I know."

Sam nodded quickly before removing his glove, and grabbed my journal, holding it against his side.

"Hey, dude, what the hell-"

"You don't need this right now, not out in public." he explained, standing up from his chair, and telling me to do the same. "I'm gonna tell the authorities that you don't have anything new to tell, and then we're going to the bunker."

"The bunker?"

"Basically,"

"Wait," I stopped, looking up at the man, pressing my lips together. "Why should I trust you?" I asked, quietly grabbing a quarter from my back pocket, making sure he didn't notice. Sam looked down at me, and chuckled, shaking his head.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Not really. You seem to be just fine with all of this 'my brother has a long lost child' crap. Believe me, I am his kid, but I just don't see why I have to trust you," I rambled, clenching the silver item in my fist. Something was wrong with this guy, I just had this feeling in my gut. This guy just didn't fit the description of what mom wrote out for me.

Sam laughed nervously, raising his eyebrows to cover up the noise that came from his mouth. I knew it, there was something off about him.

I frowned, before quickly grabbing the man's left arm, keeping a good grip on it, before pressing the coin to his hand. Sam jerked back, shoving me away from him, causing me to fly back, and crash into the wall, landing on my butt that hit the hard floor. That sure was a pain in my ass-

Wincing, I opened my eyes, noticing a small circle shaped burn mark on Sam's left hand, right where I pressed the coin. Gasping for air, I stood up quickly with help from the palms of my hands, watching the "man" give me a dirty glare, tossing the leather journal on the table, and inching his way over to me. The burn mark disappeared almost instantly, as his eyes turned an extremely lighter shade, surprising me a little bit, his eyebrows burrowing a tad bit.

I cursed under my breath, knowing the only other thing I had in my pocket was a nickel, with no other weapon in my grasp.

"You sure are your father's daughter, aren't you?" he asked, smirking just to intimidate me, grabbing some kind of small blade from his pocket, showing off his defense mechanism. "Silly hunter's kid, don't you know? Your father's not even human anymore, he became the thing he's always hated the most." the thing told me, chuckling a bit, scanning my body with his perverted eyes, keeping a steady stare at my neck. My scar.

"Who gave you this?" he asked, only grazing the blade against the old wound, questioning me. My jaw hinged, clenching my fists, refusing to answer the asshole. "It looks mighty old, how old were you when you got it?"

I only continued to stare at him, feeling the edge of his weapon dig slightly deeper into the scar, probably drawing blood.

"I'd answer if I were you, you wouldn't want me to make a deeper cut like that in your neck, now would we? You're valuable," he threatened, having a deathly glare in his startling eyes. He dug the point a little more in my scar, as I felt blood trickle out of the scar. I squeezed my eyes shut, my lip upturning.

"I was nine!" I blurted, regretting the outburst almost immediately. The blade withdrew, calming my breathing down a little bit.

"Is that so? That seems a little young for a scar like that." he commented, while I opened my eyes, taking deep breaths, as he now paced around the room. "Who gave it to you?" he repeated, incredibly interested in this stupid mark.

"I don't fucking know! I blacked out, and woke up with the thing right there!"

It laughed, shaking his head, putting his hands behind his back, raising his eyebrows.

"You do know that your father is, well, how does he put it? A black eyed bitch?" It told me, asking if that was the correct term. Was this thing telling me what I think he was telling me? "Dean is a demon, Ella. He doesn't want to worry about a kid, last time, he had about four. Quite the ladies man, but guess what, they're all dead," he taunted, crossing his arms as he continued to walk around the room. "They died of 'natural' causes, I promise you,"

I pressed my hand over my reopened scar, glaring even harder at the thing. Why was he saying that my father was a demon? Was he possessed?

"But you, no. You're special, do you know why?" he asked, turning his head towards me, softly grinning. What a tool. "It's because of your mother, she was something else. She was, somewhat a forgotten early bird,"

"What the hell are you talking about?" I questioned, frowning at the thing who was now sitting on the table. He chuckled, and gave me a sympathetic look.

"How old was your mother again? Thirty three, am I correct?"

"Yeah, so what?"

"Only two years older than your uncle Sammy, how fascinating." it smirked, examining his fingers. "Teresa Simmons was special, and she knew it. She just ignored it, unlike the other children, because she had her little Ella to take care of. She left her exhilarating life to take care of little old you, how adorable," it spoke, aggravating me a little bit. "But, you might have just absorbed some of those handy little powers she had."

"What are you smoking?!"

"Nothing, actually. That's why everyone thinks we're insane," he laughed, tapping his fingernails on the hard table. Before he could say anything else, the door swung open, hitting the wall, and in ran in two men, one who looked identical to the thing sitting on the table, and one shorter than him, with dirty blonde hair, and a green jacket. He carried what looked like some kind of bone made into a blade, with a scar on his right forearm, that looked like it was glowing. Maybe I was the insane one.

"Looks like my time is up, sweetheart," it told me, smiling faintly. I frowned, noticing that the thing didn't try to put up a fight, as the shorter man stormed up to the table, and grabbed the thing by the collar, slamming him up against the wall I was leaning against, about two feet away from me. I jumped a little, still applying pressure to my cut, while the shorter man yelled at the thing right next to me.

"Look at me you son of a bitch!" the man hissed, seeming to be strangely familiar with the phrase, pressing the thing against the wall with even more force. I froze up, watching the man blink a few times, his regular eyes turning completely black, staring a hole in the things eyes. A chill went up my spine, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up straight, as the thing looked at the black eyed guy, smirking a bit.

The demon chuckled, holding his weapon up to his throat, before pushing it all the way through his flesh, decapitating the creature, the head rolling off of the corpse, landing inches from my foot, the sound of it's collapse entering my ears, disturbing me just a bit.

"Dean." the taller man, who must have been Sam, spoke, earning his attention. Sam's eyes scattered to mine, as he widened them, probably not noticing the cut before. The man rushed over to me, removing my hand and replaced it with his own, noticing that my palm was pure red. I winced, grabbing the nickel from my back pocket, and quickly pressed it against the man's bare arm, receiving no burning flesh, or red marks from the silver.

Sam chuckled and shook his head, while I sighed in relief, laughing idiotically.

"Go grab the paper on the table," I ordered, pressing my lips together, accidentally dropping the coin, but not really caring much of it. Sam turned his head towards the demon, nodding, while he did what I told him to, taking the sheet into his hands, and reading over the words, his black eyes turning back into green, with a look of pure shock on his face.

"What is it?" Sam asked, raising his eyebrows, continuing to put pressure on the wound. The shorter demon, looked up at me, with a slightly concerned look on his face. He folded the paper up, and put it in his own jacket pocket, before he walked towards me, somewhat pushing Sam aside, and simply touching the cut on my neck. I pressed my lips together, and in a few seconds, feeling the blood stop dripping from my cut. I shook my head slightly, and immediately put my hand to the scar location, feeling that the flesh was now together again.

I coughed, catching my breath before looking up at the demon who healed my cut, who only smiled down at me, his black eyes showing themselves once again.

"I guess we have some explaining to do." he smirked, grabbing onto mine and Sam's shoulders, causing a gust of wind to pelt me in the face, while my stomach twisted into about seven knots.


	5. Meat Suit

Gasping, I launched myself forward, trying to get a small whiff of oxygen. The surface under me was soft, and when I looked down, I noticed that I was lying on a couch. I sighed, plopping back down on the couch, until I realized that what I just landed on, wasn't exactly a soft surface. I groaned, feeling the bony surface hit my back, startling me all of a sudden. When I looked up, I saw a face instead of a ceiling, and almost screamed bloody murder when his large blue eyes peered down at me.

"Oh uh-"

"Cas? Didn't I teach you anything about personal space?!" a rough deep voice hollered from about twenty feet away, as my brain adjusted to it. The sound was familiar, but I just couldn't quite put my finger on it.

"She looks a lot like you, Dean." the man above me stated, continuing to look at my features, with his head tilted. Hearing some mutters from the area, the person walked over to the location, and looked down at me, pressing his lips together.

"Yeah, that's what Sam told me."

Dean? Wait, Dean Winchester? Dean, my father Dean?

"Ella, right?" the new man asked, smiling down at me. When I nodded, I fell completely into the couch's cushion, groaning a little more. It was if the guy that I was laying on just happened to disappear. The man above me chuckled, and nodded. "Yeah, sorry about Castiel. He's kind of, well, always like that." he explained, walking around the couch, and sitting next to my feet, looking at me. "You know how long you've been out?"

"Not specifically"

"Two days." he answered, while I widened my eyes, just feeling my stomach begin to rumble. "Don't worry, I've got some bacon cheeseburgers grilling, for all four of us, I guess." he told me, while I sat up straight, checking out my surroundings. There was a kitchen behind me, and a few hallways that probably led somewhere. "It's kind of big, you wanna tour?"

I shook my head, hugging my legs casually, while he sat there with me, sighing as he took a piece of paper out of his back pocket, opening it up. But this wasn't just a regular piece of paper. This was my fucking birth certificate.

"So, Dean Winchester is your old man, huh?" he asked, chuckling to himself.

"I don't know. That's what it says on the certificate, at least. And that's what my mom wrote to me," I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. My fingers felt cold, which didn't bother me much, since I was used to it. When I looked up at the man, he pressed his lips together, and seemed to stare at me, probably daydreaming or something. I examined his eyes, noticing how they looked so much like mine, with the color of green, and the shape they were. I widened my similar ones, and he didn't really seem to notice, but only smiled. "That's your name, isn't it? Dean Winchester?"

It looked like the man jumped, but only slightly, seeming to be surprised with my question.

"It is, isn't it? I can see the resemblance, it's kind of terrifying, actually." I added, while he widened the green eyes that looked so much like mine. "You're my dad, aren't you?"

He looked down, as if he were a five year old, looking way to guilty. I raised my eyebrows, waiting for an answer, but never necessarily received one. So I nudged him with the tip of my elbow, laughing a bit, as I laid against him, crossing my arms, and continued to poke him with my elbow.

"You certainly have his eyes, don't you?" a voice came from behind me, surprising me with it's presence. So I jumped in my seat a little, whipping my head around to see a taller man that I recognized from _apparently_ two days ago. He was crossing his arms, and was breathing heavily, looking like he had just gotten back from working out or something.

"So Nancy, how was your power walk?" the man I presumed to be Dean asked, sarcasm filling his tone of voice. The man crossing his arms rolled his eyes, and began to make his way towards the both of us, plopping down on the cushion in between us, and smiling like a complete idiot. He turned to me, closing his eyes, and holding out his hand, probably waiting for me to shake it.

"Sam Winchester, also known as your uncle," he introduced, while I continued to hug my legs to my chest, not exactly trusting his figure because of the small incident from a few days ago. I only raised my eyebrows, noticing the scent of alcohol coming from his mouth, confusing me a little bit.

"Dude, are you drunk?" I questioned, squinting at the questionable long haired man. He only laughed in a response, slightly hiccuping afterwards.

"I would never dream of this even taking place when I was sober," he giggled, hiccuping once again. I shook my head and scoffed a little, smiling in disbelief.

"I never thought that I would ever have a drunk uncle," I muttered, chuckling, before breaking the hug with my legs, and pinching my forehead.

"Well, you almost have his eyes," Sam continued to ramble, doing something strange with his eye movements. "You know, sometimes, the get all black and stuff when he's pissed, you know why? Cause he's a demon!" he hollered, laughing at is own statement, kicking his feet around as if he were a child. "Oh, but him and your mom? They absolutely HATED each other. It must of gotten to the point where, uh, you know, did the thing," he snickered, before Dean smacked him in the head, the sound of his large hand colliding with Sam's skull echoing throughout the entire room. Sam dramatically pouted, and crossed his arms, his eyes wandering all over the place.

"I still don't buy it, Teresa had,_ other_ guys she was with-"

"Dean, Dean, buddy boo," Sam slurred, wrapping his arm around his allegedly older brother, smiling at him. "Ella is what? Basically a dark haired version of you, apart from the fact that she's human, and she is not a he, but is a female?" he asked at the end, confusing himself.

"I just don't see-"

"We visited Teresa's family in what, November 1998, right?"  
"Yeah,"  
"When's your birthday?" Sam asked, turning his head towards me, burping in his mouth a little. I frowned, knowing that Dean had the birth certificate.

"July fourteenth-"

"You see? July, conveniently NINE months after November," he continued, annoying his older sibling.

"But-"

"No buts. You're on the certificate aren't you?"

"Yeah..."

"Then you are legally the father." Sam announced, calling himself 'Maury' afterwards, which made Dean smack him in upside the head again.

"How exactly did your mother pass?" a familiar gruff voice asked from behind me, almost making me shit my pants, for like the third time today. Blinking a few times, I heard Dean curse under his breath.

I turned around to meet with the same blue eyes I saw a few minutes ago, when I creepily laid down in the man's lap. He had somewhat of a concerned look on his face, which somewhat resembled a saddened puppy.

"Castiel, uh, this is Ella," Dean attempted to introduce, laughing nervously.

"I know who the girl is Dean, and from what I can see and feel, she is in fact your offspring-"

"Castiel. You don't call kids offspring." Dean interrupted, holding up his hand, as I felt Sam's face lean against my shoulder, now snoring against my body, and drooling. Obviously, my uncle was a sleepy drunk. I raised my eyebrows, trying to push the over sized man off of me, but had absolutely no chance since he looked to be about 200 pounds.

"Could someone get him off of me?" I asked, feeling as if I was about to suffocate, slowly being squished into the arm rest of the couch.

Dean rolled his eyes, and grabbed the large baby off of me, and disappeared in a matter of seconds, startling me. They just seemed to vanish into thin air. I shook my head, leaning back from the scene, gripping onto the sofa.

"Holy crap," I muttered, before the person named Castiel cleared his throat, walking to the front of the furniture, and sitting down next to me.

"Ella, I know that all of these happenings must be a lot for you, but it is simply crucial that you tell me what you saw." he told me, pressing his lips together, his blue eyes filled with pure worry. I wanted to take the images from my head, not bring them back! "I changed my mind," he muttered, looking down at his shoes. "You do not have to say the images out loud if you do not wish to, at most, could you just picture them in your head?" he requested, trying to smile softly.

Well, that couldn't be so bad, could it?

I nodded a little, taking a deep breath, and closing my eyes for some reason. I had no idea, isn't that what people did? Close their eyes if they're trying to remember something?

The images I tried so hard to erase flooded back into my mind, taunting me somehow. I could feel my stomach twist into a pretzel like shape, remembering the blood that surrounded my mother.

"That's fine, you're fine, you can stop," Castiel mumbled quickly, the events continuing to play in my head, but now, with my eyes open. "It seems as if there was some type of demon there, or a hell hound,"

"If there was a hell hound," Dean's voice boomed next to me, just appearing out of thin air. I almost jumped again, but restrained myself. Fucking Christ. "That means that Teresa made a deal, why the hell would Teresa, make a deal?"

"Dean," Castiel muttered, attempting to grab my father's attention. Instead however, he continued to ramble about the facts about my late mother. I raised my eyebrows, watching him stop, and look around, his nostrils looking as if they were smelling something.

"Why do I smell meat suit?" he asked, turning his head towards me almost immediately. I widened my eyes, unsure about what he was talking about. Meat suit?

"I sense it too, a powerful vessel," Castiel commented, as my father and I made eye contact, raising our eyebrows at each other. It was like looking in a god damn mirror I swear.

"How do you still have emotions?" Dean asked me, walking towards me and bending over, leveling himself to the height I was at. "You were possessed, weren't you?"

"What?" I asked, extremely confused at his question. I frowned, tilting my head at the same time as my father, which made me want to smack myself in the face.

"It was an arch angel, it had to have been. I can sense it-"

"What the hell are you babbling about?" I asked Castiel, turning around to face him, who was studying me. "Angels?"

"Yes, I am an Angel of the Lord, but you, you've been-"

"I haven't! I haven't been possessed by anything!" I countered, making hand gestures as I did so. Were these people on drugs?

"When'd you get that?" Dean asked, now in front of me, pointing at the scar on my neck. I thought he healed it, or something like that. He must of just patched it together in like one touch or something.

I looked at my father, shaking my head and frowning.

"What's that have to do-"

"Alright, HOW did you get it?" Dean asked, rephrasing the question. I rolled my eyes, but at the same time, racking my brain for answers, looking through memories like there was no tomorrow.

How did I get this?

"I, I don't know," I blurted, looking down at the floor, breaking eye contact with my father.

"She's powerful," Castiel commented, making Dean chuckle to himself.

"Yeah, it runs in the family," he complimented, making me roll my eyes.

"No, she's valuable. She's a true vessel, to anything," Castiel informed us, while I turned my head towards him, raising my eyebrows, confused at what he was saying. Actually, I was confused by all of this. "Demon, angel, arch angel, and angels, they don't need her consent-"

"What are you saying?" I asked, lost in this guy's words. Never mind, angel.

"I've only seen one other like this, but he was killed. That was years ago, but you, you seem to be stronger than him-"

"Cas, what the hell are you talking about?" Dean asked, getting about as frustrated as I was at the moment.

Castiel looked at both of us, and frowned a bit, probably wondering why we were't on the same page as he was.

"We need to keep her safe," he said quickly, reaching to grab my arm, but I pulled away, leaning in more towards Dean than the angel.

"Safe? Safe from what?" I asked, almost falling into my father's lap, before I had another miniature heart attack. A man, shorter than any of the men in the room appeared, with blonde hair tucked behind his ears, with a coat similar to Dean's, and a smirk cast upon his face.

"Hey boys," he called out, with a charming deep tone to his voice. Not necessarily as deep as Dean's or Castiel's, but deep. Dad turned his head towards the sound of his voice, and Castiel did the same, standing up in sync, with my father grabbing onto my forearm, helping me up, and tucking me behind him.

"Did you miss me?"


	6. Test Drive

"I've noticed that you've got a pair of sparkly new shiners, Dean." the blond man taunted, smirking at my father as I peeked around him, trying to get a better look at the new man.

"Gabriel," Castiel confronted the man, now having a name. "Where were you when Metatron-"

"Oh hush Castiel, you had that taken care of all by yourself," the man named Gabriel waved off, chuckling a bit to himself. "But you, Dean! Look at you! You're a changed man!"

"Shut it douche hat, why are you really here?" my father snarled, startling me quite a bit. Gabriel smirked, sighing a little afterwards. While he did so, he tilted his head in my direction, waving to me with a warm smile. My face seemed to cringe up, confused at his gesture.

"Well, you've grown up real fast, haven't you?" Gabriel asked, walking in my direction. "I remember that scar, that sure was a crazy night," he laughed, dazing the hell out of me.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, backing up away from Dean, just to increase the distance between us.

"Funny story, I owed your idiot uncle a favor, and I slipped inside of your body for an hour," he shrugged, smiling cheerfully after his statement.

"You possessed her?!" Dean asked, stepping directly in between the new stranger and I.

"Oh Dean, stop being so protective, you've been talking to Ella how long? Ten minutes maybe, some great parenting skills you got there, Winchester,"

"You shut your damn pie hole-"

Before Dean could finish his threat, his large body was tossed to the side, as if some sort of invisible force threw him against the wall. My jaw dropped, my head turning in the direction of my father, who was attempting to pull himself from the ground.

Well shit.

I turned to face the man named Gabriel, who I finally decided was definitely not a man. He was something, Gabriel, why did that name sound familiar? My eyebrows scrunched up together, frowning at him as he put his hands up, shrugging.

"Well, what can you do?" Gabriel asked me rhetorically, grinning down at me. This time, the smile didn't look as warm as before, it had a sense of sarcasm to it.

"Gabriel, I forbid you to harm this child in any way-"

"Castiel!" he interrupted, tilting his head and snapping his fingers, as the angel stepped in front of me, causing Castiel to quit talking. I practically shook in fear, as he was also tossed aside like a rag doll, now with a piece of duct tape on his mouth. "I'm not going to hurt her! She's just a kid! Besides, I just want to give her a test drive, so to speak," he told us, smiling at the ceiling.

"Test drive my ass!" I accidentally yelled, not exactly regretting the decision to do so, while grabbing what looked to be a baseball bat that was next to the wall, holding it up in my defense.

"Wow," Gabriel sighed, putting his hands on his hips, and nodding. "You are so much like your father."

God dammit.

The weapon was repelled from my grasp, flying towards my father who was just beginning to stand up, and knocking him conveniently off of his feet again. I cursed underneath my breath, and watched as he casually walked towards me, seeming to glow as he did so.

And in a combustion of blinding light, I was trapped inside of my own body, chained to my own spine, as someone else took control over my actions and words.

* * *

"Well what have we here?" I asked myself, examining my new small fingers. Certainly different than the ones before, but I had to change it up a little. The voice was clearly more high pitched than my last vessel, who was currently lying on the ground, but not by much. Deep voice for a pubescent teenage girl. "Now THIS I could get used to!"

Castiel pulled himself up from the floor, and ripped the piece of duct tape from his mouth, tossing it to the floor. Poor guy can't take an inside joke!

"Gabriel, get out of her immediately." he warned, but his voice only seemed to taunt me, making me roll my eyes, which were covered up by a pair of large glasses. I felt a strong kick in my upper abdomen, informing me that the Ella inside was not pleased at my actions, and wanted me out.

"Are you kidding? This is awesome! It gets so boring being to same man for like a thousand years straight!" I exclaimed, laughing to myself, while testing out my new legs, strutting myself off in the room we were currently in. As I did so, my pocket vibrated, and against Ella's wishes, I took the device out, and examined it with my new eyes, holding it in these small pale hands.

_Where are you? -Tom _

"Ooh, who's Thomas?" I asked out loud, chuckling as I entered the four digit pass code that I stole from her brain, conjuring up a sarcastic or hilarious reply in my head. "This is so convenient too, with her not having to agree to angelic possession, well, for me anyway."

"Gabriel you sick son of a bitch," that black eyed idiot from across the room called out, now leaning up against the wall, but with the devilish scowl on his face that just made the girls squeal. "Get out of her!"

"How about, _downtown, come meet up at the Bowery in 10, _smiley face." I said out loud, smirking to myself while Dean muttered something under his breath. "Like I said, test drive. Give me an hour boys," I told them, looking up at the demon and the angel, before winking, and snapping my fingers.

* * *

Ah, Lower Manhattan. Also known as Hell on Earth. During the day at least, where everyone was so crowded that you could feel a man's hard on from two blocks down. The people here were great though, I had to say. Normally friendly, to the residents. Not necessarily the tourists, but the residents.

Thoughts and images of Thomas flew into my head, as I mind Googled more information on him. One statement that stood out the most to me was the, _Tom is a fucking piece of sex. _

"Settle yourself down Ella!" I teased, laughed at her to myself. It was nearly dark, probably should have thought about the time zones in New York compared to Kansas, oh but what did that matter? The lights were surprisingly astonishing, which reminded me how far along humans have come since I've been down here.

Ella thought so too, her favorite part of the city was the lights. She seemed to settle down in there as we looked up, staring at all of them, noticing how they lit up the polluted dark sky.

"Now, step number one." I told her, clapping my hands while feeling a surprisingly large bulge in my back pocket. I took her arm, and reached into it, pulling out what looked to be about three hundred dollars, while turning around and going into the hotel I had informed Lover Boy about. "Impress the dude."

The environment drastically changed, from busy, to extremely elegant, with smooth jazz casually playing on the speakers.

"Aw, hell yeah, this is what I'm talking about," I said, walking up to the counter, and asking the woman at the counter for a room.

"I'm sorry, we don't allow minors-"

"I hardly think I'm just any minor, sweet cheeks," I smirked, handing the attractive woman the wad of cash, and winking, probably seducing the shit out of her.

"Excuse me?"

"Fuck, that's right, I'm in a teenage girl's body," I said out loud, widening my eyes as I did so. The chick scoffed, and threw the money in my face, as she yelled "Security" at the top of her lungs, probably popping my ear drums as she did.

"Ella?" a boy's voice asked, making me turn around to see what looked to be Thomas at the front door, with his mouth agape.

"Right, lover boy!" I exclaimed, ignoring the money and running quickly towards him, grabbing onto his shoulders and closing my eyes, feeling a gust of summer wind blow in my face. I opened my eyes, smiling at the boy that I was holding onto, as we stood on the rooftop of the same hotel, the lights looking way better from up here than down below.

Thomas's eyes looked at me in terror, his body somewhat shaking as I let him go.

"Yo, what's wrong?"

"Ella, how did we get up here?" he asked, his hands trembling at the sight of me. I felt her kick inside of me, desperate to get out. Damn, she was stronger than I had originally planned. I smiled nervously, as she pounded against her own skull, trying to break free.

"What do you, uh, mean? We walked up the stairs to get here, remember?" I asked, attempting to convince Lover Boy that we did so.

"You're acting really fucking strange Ella, is everything alright?" he asked, frowning a little, seeming to calm himself down during the situation. It felt as if Ella had stabbed a hole through her own gut, fighting her way out of her own body, trying to push me in her place. And somehow, she was actually doing it.

"I, uh, uh," I stuttered, my hands trembling at the pain from her.

"Get out!" she yelled, somehow having the ability to speak. I quickly shook my head, laughing to myself as I pushed her back, shrugging at her attempt.

"Sorry, no can do sweetie pie," I chuckled, forgetting completely that Lover Boy was directly in front of me, who was awestruck at the situation at hand. "Yeah, it's a little complicated. I'll just put you down somewhere so you don't have to see this," I shrugged, smirking a bit.

"What do you mean-"

Before he could finish his question, I rolled my eyes, and snapped my fingers, moving him to Long Island before he could think that she was extremely insane.

"Now, what do we think about interrupting?" I asked the vessel, putting my hands on my hips before I left the rooftop itself, sadly taking myself back to Kansas. knowing that it was less than an hour.

* * *

I stretched out my arms a bit, yawning as she continued to kick from the inside, still trying to break free.

"Hold your horses, I see my old man on the floor," I sighed, as he opened his eyes, nodding a bit to give consent. I rolled my eyes, and pulled myself out of the deranged girl's body, and entered my old one, finding myself lying on the floor, with an angry black eyed son of a bitch staring down at me, shaking his head.

"I said an hour, it's been ten minutes, You should be proud!"

* * *

Regaining control over my own self, I coughed, while stumbling over something on the floor, falling on my butt while watching my father hover over Gabriel on the floor.

"What the actual hell, was that?!" I asked, yelling at the man on the floor, still not knowing exactly what he was.

"You feathered dick!" Dean yelled, grabbing Gabriel by the collar of his shirt, and lifting him up, slamming his body up against a wall.

Angel? Got it.

"What can I say? It was fun, but I gotta say. Ella, you're one strong ass girl," Gabriel complemented, as I rolled my eyes, and stood myself up, not used to the fact that I could move my own legs around.

"It's fascinating," Castiel commented, as I turned around to face him, watching him examine me.

"What, my ass? I know right, fucking unbelievable," I retorted, somewhat irritated by angels in general at the moment.

"No, not your mule, the fact that you are still your own true being after an archangel possession," Castiel frowned, tilting his head in confusion. I gave the angel a blunt facial expression. I blinked a few times and shook my head, wondering if I heard what I thought I just heard.

"Alright then Cas,"


	7. First Hunt, First Drink

A month of a boring summer vacation passed, reading countless books upon books about monsters, and how to kill them. It didn't help that Sam gave me a large pile of them to get some "light reading" in. I didn't seem to mind at first, I LIKE reading. But after thirty days of flipping through page after page of monster information, I was getting a little sick of it.

Not to mention the wardrobe Sam just happened to pick out for me. (Infinite plaid and flannel). I mean, I guess it wasn't _that_ bad. At least he didn't put any jean jackets mixed in with it all.

But luckily after the thirty days of absorbing information, something extremely interesting just happened to come up. Apart from angelic possession, almost being murdered by a shape shifter, and finding out that my father was a demon.

I heard constant yelling coming outside of my bedroom, which did in fact startle me. I was never used to hearing the brother's yell so close to my door. Sometimes I would hear them from outside. Nothing more than muffled yells of words that I could hardly make out, but that was all.

"There's no way in hell that we're going to let that happen!" the younger Winchester hollered, forcing goosebumps to erupt from the back of my neck. Sam's voice was dark and noisy, enough to scare any grown man out of his wits. Luckily, Dean wasn't a man.

"Yeah, and what say do you even have in the decision?" Dean asked, seeming more calm than his sibling.

"I mean, how would we even get her trained on time?" Sam questioned, disregarding Dean's statement beforehand.

"We wouldn't have to put her in right away! Maybe a month or two after the school year starts, she would be with people who are her age! That's healthier than spending the rest of her time with two old guys!" Dean exclaimed, sounding entirely like his brother in this situation.

Oh shit.

They were talking about me. Not even talking, ARGUING about me. This was extremely awkward.

"How do we even know this is a real case? What if it's just a ton of hormonal teenage girls committing suicide?" Sam asked, as if I couldn't hear him. What were they even talking about? Me going on a case?! Were they insane?

"Three girls in May. In the same week. Who go to the same school. In the same grade. Yeah, that's completely coincidental." Dean laughed sarcastically, probably rolling his eyes.

As I sat up on my mattress, the door opened, revealing the two men outside of my room. They both smiled as if nothing had happened. As if they weren't at all fighting right outside of my door.

"Hey, Ella. How's your day been?" Dad asked, having an idiotic smile on his face. I raised my eyebrows and crossed my arms, staring at the two of them as if they were completely crazy.

"Just peachy." I retorted, only giving my father a blunt look. "So, what are you two fighting about now?"

Dad and uncle Sam laughed nervously, rubbing the back of their necks simultaneously. I swear to god, sometimes they acted as if they were fraternal twins.

"Well, we were DISCUSSING a certain case that may or may not have anything to do with you." Dean grinned, looking down at me.

"What's the case on?"

"We're believing it's a siren, probably. We haven't actually, BEEN at the school-"

"School?!"

"But from what it sounds like, we believe that it is a Siren." Sam went on, despite my outburst.

"It's a high school." Dean pointed out the obvious.

"In Minnesota." Sam brought up.

"Only a seven hour drive."

"It gets cold up there."

"Great fishing though,"

"Oh my god I get it!" I exclaimed, cutting off my father. "Minnesota. High school. Monster. Kill kill. Stab stab. Alright!"

"You need to go undercover," Dean laughed, before I gave him a death glare. "You know. As a student."

"What about you two?" I asked, looking over at Sam for some input. He smiled nervously, pressing his lips together. Dean snickered, before Sam stomped on his brother's foot. It didn't exactly do anything, mainly because my father was a demon. Dad only laughed even harder, obviously irritating the shit out of Sam.

"We had a mutual agreement, and finally decided that, uh," Sam stuttered, as I crossed my arms, giving him a blunt facial expression. "That your father would figure out a way to get a teaching job, and that I would, um-"

"Sammy, it's nothing to be embarrassed about!"

"Shut it, Dean." Sam hissed, scratching the back of his neck. "Anyways, on a completely different subject, it's your first hunt." my uncle reminded me, frightening me at the thought of it. Shit, I could die! I mean, it'd be a little unlikely with the Rocky and Bullwinkle duo at my side, but oh my god. I could like, break my spine, or something.

Like how would it even feel? Like a sense of pain for two seconds and then nothing at all?! That'd be terrifying!

"Did you even listen to anything I said?" Sam interrupted my internal rant, snapping me out of my state of idiotic terror.

"Huh?" I asked, feeling like a complete ass, while my father shook his head. Oops.

"First hunt. Dangerous. Blend in. Use common sense, you know?" Dean restated for me. I laughed nervously, and thanked him quietly, nodding. "Great. Now. Hunters need training. LOTS of training. I'm pretty positive that you're all stocked up on information on like any old monster. Now tell me, how do you kill a vampire, Oak, or silver?" he asked, with a slight smirk on his face.

I frowned, knowing both of those answers were in fact, incorrect.

"Neither, you decapitate the bitch." I retorted, drumming my fingers on the mattress I was sitting on.

"See, she's smarter than most movie directors!" Dean exclaimed, clapping for me. I raised my eyebrows, staring at my father. Sam smacked him upside the head, which didn't really affect him in any way. "You know what this means? Your first hunt?" he asked, ignoring the slap from his younger brother.

"I don't want to know-"

"DEAN DON'T YOU DARE." Sam hollered, attempting to stop my father. It was no use though, because he had already snapped his fingers.

"TRAINING MONTAGE!" Dean rejoiced, before constant ACDC blared out of nowhere, almost making my ears bleed from the sudden noise.

"Dad, what the hell?!" I yelled over the music, watching my father play the air guitar while sliding on the floor, continuously head banging.

"First step to becoming one of the greatest hunters in the world, is learning how to fist fight!" Dean pointed, smiling wickedly. He put up his fists, circling me rapidly, throwing punches at me. Luckily enough, I dodged them, and frowned, the music distracting me with it's obnoxious volume level.

"Dean, turn the damn music off!" my uncle screeched, covering his ears. I had never seen him act this way before, it surprised me how he struggled, just with the loud music. Dean raised his eyebrows, chuckling at his younger brother's behavior.

"Oh no. This is like, one of those, training module things. It'll be just like the real thing," Dad smirked, blinking a few times, and showing his stupid black eyes. Hearing Sam groan, I looked behind my father's figure, watching as my uncle was pinned up against the wall, his feet off of the ground, and his hair touching the ceiling. "Music comes off after you beat me,"

"Are you drunk?!" I shouted, before he ran towards me, his body tackling me to the floor, my thick skull breaking the fall.

God dammit.

I groaned, attempting to push my father off me, wondering what the hell to do in this situation. I rammed thoughts into my head, trying to figure out a plan. I wasn't the best at making decisions in a moments notice. Lets just go over what the situation was, again, in my head.

My father, a demon, was attacking me, for fighting practice, so I would become an exceptional monster hunter.

If I ever said that out loud, I would probably be put in a mental hospital.

"Come on, Ellie! You gotta have some fight in ya!" my dad laughed out loud, swinging a punch at my face, that I avoided by quickly turning my head out of the way of his fists way. With that, his hand smashed into the floor, creating a large looking dent. I widened my eyes as he winced, taking a look at his now bleeding knuckles. Were demons really that hard to injure?

My mouth gaped open as he cursed, shaking his hand a bit, attempting to numb the pain. As he did so, a few drops of the red liquid trickled out of his wound, somehow landing onto my tongue. I screeched in disgust, but it was too late, I had already swallowed the fucking blood. Oh my god, that was so grody! Shutting my eyes, I was grossed out by the taste, before a jolt of purifying energy ran through my veins, forcing my eye sockets open.

Dean looked down at me, chuckling, obviously not seeing the previous event to take place.

"Did you finally grow some balls-"

Grabbing his injured fist, I brought the wound to my mouth, sucking the alluring blood out of the cuts on his knuckles, craving the liquid. My father hollered, and attempted to pull back, but I was stronger, and continued, getting a good few swallows of the fluid. Finally, without hesitation, I pushed him aside, and jumped onto my feet, cracking my neck and wrists afterwards.

"What did you call me?" I asked my father politely, smirking down at the demon at my feet. He stuttered with his words, looking up at me with fear glittering in his black eyes.

"Well, I mean-"

"My name isn't fucking Ellie, I'm not two years old." I notified him, frowning by this time.

With a blink of an eye, my father was pinned to the wall next to his brother, without my arms use. Sam plopped back down to the floor, breathing heavily, and looking up at me.

"Turn off the stupid music," I commanded, my father obeying almost instantly, the music finally fazing out. Thank god. I chuckled, slamming his body into the wall over, and over again, just by looking at him. The energy soon faded away, and made my father collapse to the floor, right next to my uncle. The blood had dried up around my mouth, probably making me look like a complete psychopath. I took short and quick breaths, falling onto my back, looking up at the ceiling.

"Holy shit," Sam muttered, sniffling a little bit.

"Remind me never to do that again," Dean huffed out, regaining the breath that he lost. Widening my eyes, I replayed everything that had just happened in my head, and slowed my breathing.

"So that was demon blood," I coughed, blinking a few times.

"You should have seen your uncle in five years ago," Dean chuckled.

"I really don't want to know,"


	8. Training Fails

**August 16th 2014**

"Now, Sirens, are ugly sons of bitches," Dean informed me, pointing to a projected image of the so called 'siren'. "In their true form, they're hairless, grey, naked things that have the ability to shape shift."

Sam sat across from me, arms crossed, giving the picture a stink eye. I had a vague feeling that they encountered this type of monster before, and probably were not the biggest fans of it.

"They infect their victims by poisoning them with a large dose of oxytocin," Sam added, as I gathered the information. "They infect them by sharing saliva,"

"And after the victims are infected, they have this certain type of, what can you call it?" Dean asked, looking at his brother for an idea.

"Obsession."

"OBSESSION, with the creature. They'll do anything and everything for the thing, and soon after, the siren leaves them." he told us, looking over at me. "The only weakness we know of, is their own poison. Dip the victims blood on a bronze knife, and sayonara,"

"So you think that the siren is getting a rush off of his victims suicides?" I asked, raising my eyebrows as I did so. Dean sighed and pressed his lips together, putting his hands in his pockets.

"That's the only plausible explanation we have for it," Sam answered for his brother, looking at me. I sighed and crossed my arms, looking at the picture of the siren on the wall, and studied it.

"So what's the game plan?" I finally inquired, looking up at Dean for an answer. He smiled and bared his teeth, telling me that my father had something in mind.

* * *

_"Eden Prairie High School, known for their outstanding sports and athletic achievements. Also known for their three random suicides in the month of May, 2014. All Freshmen females, all having brown hair, AND, all in Choir." _

_"It sounds like a creepy serial killer is on the loose for young brunette singers," _

_"Not a serial killer. A siren."_

**August 27th 2014**

"Hello, yes, um, I'd like to apply my child into your school," Sam stuttered, sounding like a complete idiot. I smacked myself in the face, since I thought that my uncle was better with the talking than Dean was. "Alright, well, the first name is Ella, and her last name is, uh,"

"Don't use Simmons!" Dean whispered, a flicker of panic showing in his eyes. Oh god, I couldn't take this seriously.

"Winchester," Sam blurted, covering his mouth as he did so. I widened my eyes, surprised at what he basically shouted into the phone.

"You have got to be kidding me." Dad muttered, a blunt expression cast upon his face. Groaning, I cupped my face into my hands. shaking my head as I did so. Sam pressed his lips together, and had his puppy eye magic working on the both of us, forcing us to not stay mad at him for long.

"Classes? Definitely choir, Ella just has this passion for singing," Sam chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck.

Widening my eyes, I grabbed the newspaper Dean was reading, and a sharpie from the table, scribbling a few words on the sheet before showing it to my uncle. While he spoke on the phone, he read the writing, and looked at it in surprise, nodding a bit.

"Creative writing, and physics," Sam added, shrugging to himself. "She's a sophomore, yes."

I smiled and crossed my arms, laying back in my chair in relief. I knew that we'd only have to be at the damn school for a term, MAYBE two if we were really lost.

* * *

_"We're going to train you like crazy. You'll know how to knock a two hundred pound guy off his feet in a matter of seconds," _

_"Is that even possible?"_

_"Oh it is. And it will be. Trust me on this." _

**August 28th, 2014**

"Now," Sam said, placing himself in front of me. "Come at me."

I looked at him as if he were crazy. Laughing, I crossed my arms and took a step back, shaking my head.

"No!"

"Why not?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. I looked around myself, raising my eyebrows at him.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Not exactly."

"Well," I started, tapping my left foot nervously. "You're like ten times bigger than me,"

My uncle laughed out loud, copying me by crossing his own arms, shaking his stupid head.

"It's easy, watch," Dean exclaimed, appearing out of nowhere, standing in between Sam and I, with both of his hands on his hips, confidence overwhelming him. Sam rolled his eyes and took a swing at his brother, before grabbing his right arm, taking his foot and sweeping it underneath Sam's leg, tripping him in a blink of an eye. My uncle laid on the hard floor, groaning loudly as he looked up at the man who stood over him. "Not that difficult."

"You're a demon," I countered, frowning as my father turned around, crossing his arms, as his brother got up on his feet, pressing his lips together.

"And your mom was a special child," Dean blurted, rolling his eyes at me. Sam slapped him in the bicep, glaring at his older brother. "Oh shit, shouldn't have said that," he muttered, fidgeting with his hands. Raising my eyebrows, I balled my fists, hiding them behind my back.

"Special child?" I asked, as Sam widened his eyes, pushing my dad aside.

"Lets talk somewhere else," my uncle whispered, guiding me away from my father, walking down the hallway for about two minutes, and then into the target practice room. When we entered, he handed me a pistol, and allowed me to load it.

"So, your mom," he began, as I leveled the gun, aiming at a sheet of paper about twenty feet away from me. "She was like me,"

I pulled the trigger, the bullet flying towards the target at an alarming rate, making a large noise while it did so. The gun jerked back a bit, but not enough to daunt me. Sam jumped a little, not prepared to hear such a sound.

"That shapeshifter told me that she was a 'forgotten early bird', what does that even mean?!" I asked, running my fingers through my hair, sighing after I did so.

"She was a test run," Sam muttered, drumming his fingers on the counter, looking at the target. It was somewhat of a good shot, almost in the center.

"Test run?"

"A demon named Azazel fed her demon blood when she was six months old." he spoke quickly, not thinking anything of it.

I dropped my gun, choking on saliva in my mouth, before I looked up at the giant, confusion plastered on my face.

"How do you-"

"I was a special child. At a time, I was addicted to demon blood, remember how much energy you got when you drank your father's?" he asked, picking up the gun from the floor, meeting my gaze.

"Yeah-"

"Let's never do that again. Having demon blood in your DNA is bad enough, but when you ingest more? You'll never be able to stop." he barked at me, warning me about the situation.

"Sorry."

"You didn't try to, your idiot dad didn't really give you a choice, now did he?"

"No," I squeaked out, before my uncle pulled the trigger, without have the gun jerking back. When I looked up at the target, he pulled a bullseye, showing off his years of experience.

"You have power buried somewhere in you, we just gotta find a way to dig them up. Demon blood is one way, but it's dangerous. Your mother could move things with her mind without blood, so you should be able as well."

"But-"

"Not to mention that you're a vessel. With enough training, you could probably cast out whatever is inside of you. If you're ever possessed that is."

I stayed quiet after that, pressing my lips together, while I watched Sam shoot at the target, doing better than I could ever possibly do.


End file.
